The mirror has two faces: How to write double entendre

Published in the Portland Phoenix

There is an art to doing it. The approach must be soft and gentle, though the intent is obvious. Unless of course you’re thinking of something else. In which case its meaning is equally plain, but completely different.

Ken Ludwig has great skill at it, carefully constructing his characters’ words and actions to present two versions of reality: the one we think should be happening, and the one we know the characters believe their parts in. Vague words assume specific meanings and errors in judgment abound.

In Lend Me A Tenor, Ludwig has created a mad world inhabited by a John Cleese–like theater producer, a boring dweeb (who turns out to have incredible strength in his, well, you know), a mercurial Italian opera singer, an incredibly capable bellhop, and a gaggle of women who see right through the men, except when the men don’t get it either, at which point the hilarity begins. That’s right at the start.

The Portland Stage promo literature says the comedy hinges (ha, ha) on a door opening or closing at "just the right moment," but it’s fortunate that isn’t true. In fact, if it were, this play wouldn’t be funny at all. Synchronized door-opening, intended to move the action from one part of the set to another, is not a strength of this cast.

But only the promo-lit writer might care. These actors — the actual crux of this or any comedy — are wonderful, with movement and timing honed by long nights of rehearsal. They have immersed themselves, with the help of director Drew Barr, until they see the brilliant comedy of each moment.

It doesn’t hurt that the aforementioned dweeb-cum-hero (Max, played by Tom Ford) is familiar from two years as Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, adding a new facet to an old character, or that Aled Davies, playing the theater manager Saunders, has been heavily influenced by Basil Fawlty (and has played Scrooge, himself, interestingly). And they’re helped along by Ron Botting, as tippling womanizing Italian tenor Gary Hart — I mean Tito Merelli — who channels Governor John Baldacci’s physical mannerisms and Father Guido Sarducci’s accent. (As an aside, has anyone ever met a hotel bellhop (John Hildreth) who is both fluent in Italian and could play a wonderful Parsifal?)

The women are excellent, too. Janice O’Rourke (as Maggie) opens with a lip-sync number Milli Vanilli should emulate, and goes on to discover true passion in disguise. Barbara Mather (as Julia) swans around the stage like a good theater-board diva; Jordan Simmons (as Diana) hunts down her quarry but misses the final blow. Meanwhile, Michele Ragusa (as Maria) lays down her smoky blaze around Tito, lighting fires under Max and Saunders.

Other participants in the opening night production included a chatty, well dressed group in the seats behind me, who often had useful information to add to the play’s goings-on. For example, when Tito takes too much phenobarbitol in this 1930s-era play, a man helpfully remarked that the drug was "one of the first medicines." In the past I’ve inveighed against the surround-sound nature of performances at other theaters. I am glad to see that Portland Stage, no doubt mindful that access to theater is a culturally enriching experience, has not yet banned nattering nabobs from its seats. (Can’t plays, like movies, include brief mind-your-manners scenes before the main show begins?)

A note of caution for those who fail to suspend disbelief upon entering a theater: Don’t believe Max’s words when he tells you, "This is not an opera." Of course it is. Besides the obvious operatic singing from time to time (which is very well done), this play bears all the hallmarks of good opera, not least of which is the larger-than-life performance by an underdog who becomes the real star.

Another excellent indicator of the play’s true genre is the amount of alcohol consumed by the main character. Ron Botting downs a half-bottle of wine in about 10 minutes; blissfully, the next task assigned to his role is to lie still abed for quite some time. Nevertheless, he is prepared for a second-act Keystone Kops-like runabout. (It should be noted that those illustrious officers never had women like these. Seems they’ll toss off their clothes for anyone who can find the right note.)

The finale — a reprise of the entire show in under two minutes — showcases the physical comedy and illustrates the fun playwright Ludwig — and the audience — has with words, made notable by their absence in the mimed closing credits.

Lend Me A Tenor
Written by Ken Ludwig. Directed by Drew Barr. With Ron Botting, Tom Ford, Aled Davies, and Janice O’Rourke. Portland Stage Company, through February 22. Call (207) 774-0465.

Backstage

• Democracy in action at Portland Stage Company: PSC is asking for input on what you want to see on its stage next season. A short list of plays for your perusal is available at the theater, so go check it out and cast your vote!

• For those who say new or unknown theater work doesn’t draw well, you should sit down with Mike Levine, who has figured out how to get big audiences to come to unknown plays by little-known playwrights. In the I-hope-you-didn’t-miss-it department at the Maine Playwrights Festival this past weekend: Paul Haley howling like a wolf, Stephen McLaughlin as a short-order genie, Miranda Hope releasing stress and an egg, Michael Crockett wishing for pierced eardrums, and Suze Allen’s twisting look at incest.

Returning with energy: Mike Levine finds a sprout from Acorn

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The year 2001 was "a brutal, brutal year" for Mike Levine. The Oak Street Theater — for six years his project — had just closed. He then worked with Deirdre Nice and others planning the restoration of the St. Lawrence Church into an arts and community center. But construction ran late, forcing the postponement of the center’s long-awaited first show.

And tragedy struck at home. Mike and his wife lost a baby. He took time off, closing Acorn, a production company that had put on must-see shows in Portland in the mid to late 1990s. He almost brought Avner ("the Eccentric") Eisenberg and company back for a Phyzgig reprise in late 2001, but September 11 put a stop to that. He took time to think, reflect, heal, grow.

Levine and his wife now have a second baby, and though she was three months premature and spent six months in the hospital, she’s healthy and home. And with some real-life dramatic experience under his belt, Levine, a high school theater teacher in Sacopee Valley, is finding the Acorn he stashed two and a half years ago.

"It’s nice to be able to pick up old connections," he says. Portland hasn’t forgotten him: A fund-raising letter sent out in the early fall netted some encouraging donations, and a $5000 grant from the Davis Family Foundation. It was enough to put on a few performances of Phyzgig in December and plan a third Maine Playwrights Festival, on this weekend at the Portland Stage Studio Theater.

It has also started a new chapter for Acorn. "Right now I’m trying to be financially responsible," Levine says. When at Oak Street, the conflict between the artistic half of his mind and the accountant half was no contest: The theater put on "very nice productions of stuff that would lose tons of money." This time, with a new perspective, he’s changed his tune. "We want to make this a stable venture," ideally self-sustaining, without needing grants and donations, except to expand and innovate.

"Otherwise you’re on the edge of death," he says. Without financial support "you’re just building a house of cards."

He has retooled Acorn to meet a need he sees in the community, one others have also seen. "We’re sort of looking more to Acorn as a catalyst for new work," dreaming of using the Portland Stage space — both main stage and studio — to showcase new work, workshop plays in progress, and expose directors, actors, and audiences to the living art of theater.

He is focusing more on the logistics end of things than creativity, preferring to avoid that artist-accountant dispute of past years. "If I want to direct a play, I should job myself out," he says. He is directing some of the work in this festival, but swears that’s it for his artistic involvement with Acorn.

This production sprang from work Suze Allen, of the Amma Performing Arts Studio (the studio Acorn morphed into in Levine’s absence, now a separate enterprise), did with local playwrights and short pieces. "These plays are written specifically for this event," Levine says. The plays were not chosen by competition, but that’s in the cards for the future.

The closeness of the playwrights to the process has allowed a degree of artistic give-and-take rarely found in theater, Levine says. Directors can ask the playwrights what their intentions were, and for background information on characters.

"I love these kind of short plays," he says. "They’re short but they have a complete dramatic arc." The performances can begin with more intensity, because they lack time to develop their own moods.

"The first time the characters see each other you not only want to, but you have to establish a clear connection."

Among the plays are stories of a man who, after 34 years or marriage, plugs his ears with wax and finds he has never been happier; eggs who decide to seek their own sperm donors; and couples who face a wide range of challenges in life.

"There are no subtleties," Levine says. As a director, "you can make these sort of extreme choices."

They’re also less demanding of time and energy — and money. The previous two festivals Acorn put on were for full-length plays, where 50 submissions came in and three were selected and performed in full. "That was really, really hard."

Shorter plays may draw more people, Levine hopes. "There’s something about theatergoers’ attention span that’s reflecting what’s going on" in the wider world. The first question most people ask about plays is not, "What is it about," but "How long is it?"

He’s hoping brevity, intensity and variety will draw "the ever-elusive 28-to-34 demographic" into the seats.

The future of Acorn is a bit uncertain. With no long-range plan, "in a sense we are almost like a new company." He’s enjoying the freedom of not having a theater building’s overhead, while at the same time being "a little worried about becoming a gypsy company."

"This is kind of an experimental year for me," he says.

Maine Playwrights Festival
Eleven plays by nine local playwrights, performed by 17 actors, with three directors. Acorn Productions at the Portland Stage Studio Theater, Jan. 29 through Feb. 1. Call (207) 766-3386.

Backstage

• Check out the SPACE gallery’s present show, "Touch," for an audience-participation theater exhibit, including scripts, costumes and blocking. If you’ve always wanted to try acting, but never found a way, now you have.

Gorman appeals conviction

Published in the Current and the American Journal

Jeffery “Russ” Gorman has appealed his conviction for the murder of Amy St. Laurent, asking Maine’s Supreme Court to grant him a new trial. His appeal asks for a judge to exclude damaging testimony from his mother about the killing.

In January 2003, Gorman was convicted of the “intentional and knowing” murder of Amy St. Laurent following a night out in Portland’s Old Port and at a house on Brighton Avenue in Portland.

The key issue in the appeal is the testimony of Gorman’s mother, Tammy Westbrook. She testified at a grand jury hearing that resulted in Gorman’s
indictment for the murder. At the grand jury, she testified that Gorman had called her Dec. 9, 2001, the day after St. Laurent’s body was found buried in a wooded area off Route 22 in Scarborough.

In that conversation, Westbrook told the grand jury, Gorman confessed to the crime and told his mother something nobody but the killer knew – that St. Laurent had been shot once in the head.

During the criminal trial, Westbrook testified she had no recollection of testifying before a grand jury and no memory of any conversation with her son about St. Laurent. She also testified that she was receiving psychiatric treatment for delusions and post-traumatic stress disorder.

The prosecution argued that an audio tape recording of Westbrook’s grand jury testimony should be presented as evidence during the trial. Superior Court Judge Nancy Mills agreed.

The evidence figured strongly in the prosecution’s case against Gorman, and jurors in the criminal trial asked to see a transcript of the recording during
their deliberations. That was not permitted, but they were allowed to hear the tape played again.

After five hours of deliberation, the jury unanimously convicted Gorman of the murder.

He was later sentenced to spend 60 years in prison, following a prosecutor’s sentencing recommendation that claimed Gorman tried to rape St. Laurent and killed her to cover it up.

Gorman’s new lawyer, Chris MacLean, told the Current allowing the tape of Westbrook to be played to the jury was unfair because it prevented Gorman’s trial attorney, Clifford Strike, from confronting Westbrook about her taped claims.

The right to cross-examine witnesses is guaranteed in the U.S. Constitution. Westbrook could not be effectively cross-examined because she did not
recall making the statements, or any discussions regarding the case, MacLean said.

MacLean makes two additional arguments in the appeal filing. He says Westbrook should not have been allowed to testify at all because she was not mentally competent to do so.

He also says the jury’s conviction was in error, arguing that evidence presented by the prosecution was not sufficient to convict Gorman of “intentional and knowing” murder. The filing asks for the conviction to be overturned and for the case to be sent back for a new trial.

MacLean told the Current there may have been enough evidence, depending on how the state Supreme Court views the case, to convict Gorman of manslaughter, but not murder.

The case is scheduled for oral arguments before the Supreme Court in Portland on Friday, Feb. 13. A decision could take months.

Theater Project for everyone

Published in the Portland Phoenix

Theaters across the state say they want to boost audience numbers, to have attendees reflect Maine’s diversity — ethnically, socially, economically. They say they want anyone to be able to see any show. Now somebody means it.

The Theater Project, in Brunswick, has introduced pay-what-you-can ticketing, for all shows, all the time.

Will more people in the seats build a more vibrant, supportive community than a few folks with high-priced tickets? It’s a good bet: "Ticket receipts never support a theater," says Al Miller, the theater’s artistic director. "We want people to come see our shows, and we don’t want them to stay away because they can’t afford the tickets."

We can hope they’ll also score more grants for being an inclusive theater environment, allowing families, young adults, and working people of all ages to see quality theater without breaking the budget.

Sure, other companies have pay-what-you-can nights, but it’s a separate-but-not-equal feeling, and it’s on their schedule, not yours.

At the Theater Project, even their requested amounts are low: ranging from $6 to $15. But there’s no shame, and no problem, if you can’t afford it. Just pay less.

Start now, at the Winter Cabaret, from January 23 to February 8. Pay what you can. Then add a penny — literally — to that amount, to help support a theater that says it wants everyone to attend, and means it. Call (207) 729-8584 for reservations.

In the name of love: Parents should listen to children

Published in the Portland Phoenix

The busy streets of Chicago are broken by automatic gunfire as Romeo and Juliet opens, in this 1920s-Chicago version of the classic love tragedy. It’s the Children’s Theatre of Maine, but this production is for kids 10 and up. A mother and baby are among the first to fall as the Montague/Capulet feud heats up.

The story line is familiar: Teenagers fall in love, without obeying the constraints of social or family repercussions. Each must hide true feelings from adults, who will use logic to quash that which is purely emotional. The grownups, determined to have their way, make unreasonable decrees — at least by today’s standards — and force the hands of the lovers.

All the while, teenagers’ proclivities to make bad choices result in serious consequences for Romeo, and a sympathetic counselor must devise a complex scheme to rescue young love from adult rage. In one of Shakespeare’s classic twists, a vital message is not conveyed, ripping tragedy from the jaws of joyous reunion.

These actors — mostly teenagers themselves, or in their early twenties — know well both the fictional story and its real-life themes. Julie Civiello, who alternates with Alex Brinkman-Young in the role of Juliet, is sensitive and strong in the role of the 14-year-old lover, whose father thinks her too young to marry, until he meets the "right man" for her. Who is, of course, not Romeo (Mark Friedlander) but Paris (Adam Gutgsell), a powerful nobleman and friend of the prince of Verona.

Civiello reaches deep into her own heart, tugging at Romeo and the audience as she struggles between love and duty. The balcony scene is sweet, earnest, and loving, though tinged with the despair of those who know they must oppose their parents’ will.

It results in a beautiful mimed wedding ceremony with soft lighting giving the couple their moment amid the chaos of the family feud. The music and lights throughout the production add to the ambience, including a swing-dancing masquerade ball at which Romeo first truly meets Juliet.

The supporting cast is generally strong. Mercutio (Brian Hinds) and Juliet’s nurse (Shannon Campbell) are wonderfully ribald, playing to the base elements in the audience, even as the web of sorrow draws nearer about them. Some of the lines are hard to hear, however, either because they are spoken too fast or because of the acoustics in the Children’s Theater space.

Chris Gyngell (as Romeo’s kinsman and friend Benvolio) speaks too quickly for any of his lines to be comprehensible. It is a sad casting choice, for his devotion to Romeo is one of Shakespeare’s great friendships.

The choice of this play is bold, dealing with adult and teen themes together, mixing no small amount of violence, both physical and emotional. And yet, these are important issues today, as they were in Elizabethan times.

Parents still strive for what is best for their children, even as those children redefine their own dreams. Youthful rebellion can lead not just to adult-feared failure but also to child-hoped success, or at least a valuable lesson learned. Adults and children should communicate more openly, not hiding behind preconceived ideas or latent fears. The real burden of this falls to the parents, who must create an environment of open, loving honesty, not a charade of fear and obedience.

As a reminder stands Shakespeare: With young lovers poised on the brink of their future together, adults and the stars conspire against them, bringing all to grief.

Romeo and Juliet
Written by William Shakespeare. Directed by Pamela DiPasquale. With Mark Friedlander, Julie Civiello, Alex Brinkman-Young, and Brian Hinds. At Children’s Theatre of Maine, through Jan. 25. Call (207) 878-2774.

Backstage

• Carolyn Gage’s one-act Calamity Jane Sends a Message to her Daughter won the Boston Play Slam, on January 13. The audience chose the single-actor short play as the best of the lot. It was performed by Leslie Bernardini, who had also performed Gage’s play The Parmachene Belle in an off-Broadway festival early in 2003. Gage is raising money to bring both shows to Portland.

• Another reason to head to Mad Horse’s production of The Bacchae in mid-February: The Portland Stage Studio Theater expects to have new seating! In six months of fund-raising, actors and others put together $2100, enough to buy 50 new chairs, leaving 35 old chairs still to be replaced, at a cost of about $1500, plus shipping. Be sure to thank the cast and crew of The Food Chain and Wicked for their efforts.